Devotion
by A. Windsor
Summary: "At only nine years old, she's determined, stubborn, dedicated, and meticulous." Thing!verse


Title: _Devotion_

Author: A. Windsor

Pairing/Characters: Callie/Arizona

Rating: G

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My one year of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Series: Thing!verse

Summary: "At only nine years old, she's determined, stubborn, dedicated, and meticulous." [June 2025]

Author's Note: Aunt Rachel is first introduced in _Formality_ for anyone who is confused. Beta'd by the wonderful, snarky roughian. Thanks, you weirdy reindeer.

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><p>First, Callie stops breathing. Second, she stands. Third, she thanks god Arizona isn't at this game. She can't imagine her paranoid wife's response to that hit.<p>

The ref blows the whistle to stop the play, and Lena's not getting up, and Callie very briefly hates her nine-year-old's obsession with soccer.

Lena's coach (and godmother) Aunt Rachel is summoned onto the field. Rachel kneels down and helps Lena to her feet, which allows her madre to breathe again. Rachel looks to the bleachers and gives Callie both a thumbs up and a stay-put gesture. Callie uses her last bit of strength to follow that order and slowly sits down as Rachel helps Lena to the bench.

The team plays the last three minutes while Lena sits crying on the end of the bench; the only thing keeping Callie in her seat is Lena's newfound _embarrassment_ at being babied. Callie keeps her eyes trained on Lena as she draws her green sock clad knees to her chest and hides her tears there, and she aches for that final whistle so she can go rescue her Thing Two.

The game ends, finally, and Callie turns immediately to Asa on her left.

"Stay here. Watch your brother and sister."

The eleven-year-old nods, Teo in his lap, Caroline laid out on her stomach coloring on the bench beside him.

"Is Leni okay?"

"Probably. No te preocupes." [Don't worry.]

"Lena cayó," [Lena falled,] three-year-old Teo speaks up.

"Sí, Lena _se_ cayó," [Yes, Lena _fell_,] Callie corrects absently. "I'll be right back and we'll go home."

"Finally," six-year-old Caroline sighs.

"Basta. Watch the 'tude," Callie pats her lightly on the bottom as she heads down the bleachers.

"Dude," Caroline finishes their momma's usual saying.

Callie hurries out of the bleachers and across the field as the two teams of eight- and nine-year-olds disperse. When she gets to the bench, she sits down gingerly beside the sniffling girl in her grass- and mud-stained white jersey, pigtails disheveled and one of the green ribbons carefully braided into her hair barely hanging on for its life.

"¿Qué te duele, Lena-nena?" [What hurts?]

"Nada," [Nothing] Lena swears, voice muffled by her knees.

"Are you sure?"

"Mami, don't be a doctor right now," Lena grumbles, with far more attitude than is usual from her sweet little girl.

"Hey, you were on the ground. Me puedo preocupar." [I can be worried.]

Lena stands up with a huff and holds her arms out, spinning in a circle as if to show her madre she is uninjured.

"Y, ¿por qué te llores?" [So, why are you crying?]

Lena wipes angrily at her face and shakes her head. She stands, hands on her hips, willing herself not to cry anymore, for about half a minute. Then she meets her madre's eyes and her bottom lip starts to quiver.

"N-not cryin'," Lena says as she does just the opposite.

Callie tugs her mini-Arizona into her lap, mindless of the mud and sweat covering her little girl, and holds her close, feeling the hot tears through soak through her shirt.

"It's okay, m'ija," she murmurs into Lena's neck, face buried in the mess of loosened braids and scratchy hair ribbons.

The little sobs shudder through her tiny body, and Callie rubs her back soothingly through the rough polyester of the jersey.

"Is she okay?" Rachel asks softly. "That looked like a nasty hit."

"Just had the wind knocked out of her," Callie assures as Lena continues to cry against her, hiding from the concern of her coach/godmother. "She's exhausted."

"I know. These tournaments are hard on the little ones, even when it's just six games in a weekend. Maybe we shouldn't have entered this one? They're still just babies."

"No, no, they had fun. It's just been a long weekend." Callie drops her voice. "And I think she's a little embarrassed."

Rachel nods knowingly. They both know that sweet little Lena tries her hardest to be super tough; she's just not as naturally good at it as her little sister. Rachel leans in and drops a kiss on her goddaughter's head.

"Feel better, Lena-baby," Rachel says gently. "I'm gonna go make sure all the other kids get home okay. See you later."

Lena's tears have slowed but she remains in place, clinging super tightly to her madre. Callie presses her lips to Lena's sweaty temple and leaves them there, rocking her like she used to when she was just a little baby. Her tiny baby girl, with her momma's eyes, the one she begged Arizona for practically from the moment Asa was born. Her own little Arizona to shape and mold.

And because she's her momma's daughter, Lena feels the pressure of being the best player on her team, even at nine, no matter how much her moms try to keep that very pressure off of her. Callie and Arizona tell Lena over and over again that the moment she doesn't want to play, she doesn't have to, but Lena continues to spend her free time kicking that infernal ball against the fence in the backyard. So as much as they worry over the effects of her young talent, they can't deny her something that she continues to choose and usually makes her so happy.

At only nine years old, she's determined, stubborn, dedicated, and meticulous. Arizona gets only a little affronted when Callie blames her for that single-minded devotion to being the best. Which is what got them into this spring tournament league in the first place.

Lena finally lifts her head and rubs at her face with her hands, just making it even dirtier. Callie finds a relatively clean spot high on her cheekbone and places a delicate kiss there.

"Feel better, mi amor?"

Lena nods and sniffles.

"Does anything hurt? What did you hurt out on the field?"

"Couldn't breathe," she admits.

"You ran into that boy pretty hard and then fell down. The ground's not soft, y'know."

She nods, lip still jutting out pitifully.

"And my butt kinda hurts. 'Cause I fell on it."

Callie snorts and gives her a little squeeze before dumping her (gently) out of her lap.

"Déjame verlo." [Let me see it.] She seems to contemplate that cute little butt. The black shorts can't hide the mud stains; her baby girl plays hard. "Yep. Just as I suspected. Still flat as a pancake."

"Hey!" Lena objects, spinning around, hands returning to her hips. She could not be more like her mother if she tried, sometimes. "'Snot flat."

"It is. And bony. That's why it hurts when you fall on it. You're too skinny."

"That's what Abuelita always says," Lena sighs, hands dropping.

Callie reaches around and gives the topic of their conversation a gentle swat.

"It's okay. I think it's cute."

Lena sighs. "Mami."

"Ready to go home? And shower? Cause, wow, you're very stinky."

"Mami!"

The giggle bubbles out of her little blonde, obviously against her will. Callie stands and collects Lena's soccer bag, checking it for two shoes, her favorite soccer ball, her water bottle, and the emergency pair of socks.

"Seriously, you smell terrible, m'ija. You're sitting in the way back."

Lena unabashedly sniffs herself.

"Oh man. I _do_ stink."

Callie laughs; she can't help it. Everything her little Arizona-clone does makes her laugh. Lena gives her a sly smile, the light returning to her eyes. Callie offers her hand, and Lena easily takes it as they head back across the field.

"Did you see my goal, Mami?"

"Which one?"

Lena giggles again, swinging their joined hands.

"The last one. It was really cool."

Callie, who really can't tell the cool goals from the uncool, especially at the under-ten level, just nods easily and lets her ramble about it until they get to the bleachers. There, she sprints up the bleachers to her siblings and jumps on her little sister.

"Mami, make her stop! She smells _gross_," Caroline objects as the boys howl with laughter.

Callie rolls her eyes and fishes out her phone.

"Lena, get off your hermanita and come call your momma while we head to the car. Tell her all about your two games today."

The older girl obliges and, affronted, Caroline picks herself up with a pointed sticking out of her tongue as Lena accepts the phone.

"Keep that tongue in your mouth or I'll cut it off," Callie says, half-playfully, as she grabs Teo's hand to help him down the bleachers.

Teo giggles at the image.

"Mami, she needs her tongue," Teo reminds her, hopping from one level to the next.

"Oh yeah, for what?"

"Ice cream!"

Callie snorts a little. "Okay. But that's a good idea. Who's up for some ice cream?"

The answer is a resounding yes, even from Lena, before she goes back to giving her mother the play-by-play.

"Lena, tell Momma she's missing the ice cream."

Asa laughs: "She's not gonna be very happy about that."

* * *

><p>el fin<p> 


End file.
